


The Zen of Cutting Carrots

by Starstruck4Moony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Americans, Bar, Chefs, Co-workers, Cooking, Crush, Famous, Fluff, Food, Get Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Making Out, Modern Era, No Smut, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sirius wears glasses, Unrequited Crush, kiss, motorcycle, realistic portrayal of working in a high-end kitchen, restaurant, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starstruck4Moony/pseuds/Starstruck4Moony
Summary: Remus Lupin was working his ass off at one of the country’s most prestigious restaurants. The hours were long, the work was grueling, and worst of all, Chef Black was gorgeous and ridiculously unattainable.A restaurant AU modern get together.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 36
Kudos: 243
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2020





	The Zen of Cutting Carrots

**Author's Note:**

> Team: Touch
> 
> Prompt: 

It was Monday. The only day that the restaurant was closed, making it Remus’s only day to spend an entire day’s earnings at the chiropractor getting adjusted so he could endure another week in the trenches, the only day to do laundry, eat a regular meal, go to the store, or even get more than 5 hours of sleep. Except he couldn't. Because it was 6 am, the sun had barely risen over the marshes he was wading in, and he was bent over picking sea beans next to Chef Black. Exhausted, covered in bug bites, gaining more and more freckles by the minute, and already sweating through his threadbare shirt, Remus held back his sighs because this was a privilege. Because any cook would be lucky to be in this position, to be out here harvesting wild plants with a famous chef for dinners at a world-renowned restaurant. 

At least, that’s what everyone told him. 

“You getting a decent haul over there?” Chef Black asked as he emptied his handful into their collection bucket. 

Remus pushed his sweaty curls out of his eyes, too sore or tired, or something to answer with anything more than simply emptying his handful into the bucket as well.

“Not a morning person, eh?” Chef Black gave him a sideways look, knowing that Remus must be exhausted but still teasing him anyway.

“Well, this is certainly different compared to how I usually spend my mornings,” Remus deflected away. 

“Ah yes, the hard life of a lowly line cook,” Chef Black winked at him and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Are you so old you’ve forgotten those days?” he retorted. “Chef?”

Sirius threw his head back, whisps of his inky hair coming loose from his bun, and barked a laugh. Remus watched the suntanned skin crinkle around his eyes.

“Hmm, I dunno, I don’t think I’m that old. Do you?”

Remus gave him a withering glare. It was one thing for the chef to tease his cooks, it was another thing for the cooks to flirt with their chef, no matter how beautiful they looked. Kitchen life was full of stupid unspoken rules, but this one he was pretty sure everyone knew without having to be told. Even if Chef Black looked like Remus’s fantasy guy come to life, with his silver eyes, broad shoulders, cheekbones high and perfect to go along with that strong nose, Remus himself had to behave. 

“Alright, alright grumpy,” Sirius stood up, wiping his hands off on his jeans, “let’s go drop these off and get some breakfast.” 

Great. He wasn’t going to be let out to go home and sleep anytime soon. Amazing. Excellent. 

__

“Who the fuck made this sauce?!” 

Silence met the chef’s question, which was just as bad as everyone confessing blame, which was worse than one person confessing blame. 

Remus rushed to answer before the Chef was forced to ask a second time, “Me, chef”.

Chef Black’s eyes turned and burned a fire right through him. “Come here”.

Remus sped over, adrenaline making him race even faster.

“Taste this.”

Remus dipped in a tasting spoon and sampled the sauce as commanded.

“Does it taste good?”

Remus’s heart was in his throat, the heat of his embarrassment out-scorching the heat of the kitchen, “I don’t know? I made it like the recipe instructed”.

Chef Black lowered his voice to that of someone about to whisper the last words you’d hear before slitting your throat, “I pay you to know”.

Silence stretched out as the chef took the pot, and upturned it into the trash bin. He shoved the pot back in Remus’ hands, “Make it right.” 

Remus refused to quip that the chef barely paid him at all, and turned to hurriedly start making the sauce again, knowing his mountain of prep for service was barely going to get done, and that this sauce needed more time than he had. And it was Saturday night. Perfect. 

__

The night passed in a fevered rush of orders, special requests, too many beet dishes, and too few food runners, but the service, like always, did finally end. Of course, it would still be an hour before any of them made it home, so Remus got to scrubbing down the kitchen with the rest of the team. While there may be a hierarchy in the kitchen when there was food out, everyone became equals—except the chef—when it came time to clean up. Chef Black had retreated into his office to email food vendors for orders to be delivered the following week, already planning out a menu he had yet to fully realize. 

The crew all left of their own accord while Remus finished sharpening his knives in preparation for his next shift and relocating his food tweezers that somehow always ended up in Peter’s drawer. He would spray paint them to keep their identity clear, but it’d come off in the wash anyway. 

Finally packed up, Remus was on his way out the back door when the chef said his name. "Remus?"

“Yes, chef?”

“Are you the last one?” Chef Black asked, not looking up.

“Yes, chef.”

“Funny you should still be here”

“Um...I was sharpening my knives, chef”.

Chef black huffed a laugh. “It’s after midnight Remus, you can drop the fucking ‘chef’. It’s not like you take this shit that seriously anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Remus was angry. How dare he be accused of not taking this seriously when he spent every waking moment either at the kitchen or making himself ready to be back at the kitchen.

“I mean, do you even want to be a chef?”

“Of course I do.” Remus struggled to keep his annoyance to a minimum, but it was past midnight and he was exhausted. “Why else would I be here?”

“Well,” Chef Black finally looked up at him, calm and steely, “if you want to be a chef, then you better start acting like one, and stop waiting for someone to give you all the answers.”

Remus stood in shock. He was bewildered and insulted. He was just trying to do what was right, goddamnit, and this place provided no fucking answers.

“See,” Chef Black interrupted his thoughts a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth, “you want answers. Chefs don’t even ask questions except, ‘does this taste good’, and that’s it.”

Remus blinked at him, glued to the cracked tile floor.

“Stop asking the wrong questions.” And with that, Sirius turned back to his orders and Remus departed into the alleyway.

___

Remus spent that night drinking his gin from the freezer and mulling over Sirius’s words. He knew he could cook, but chefs had always demanded blind obedience from him before. Now, he was being berated for not being independent enough. It was a mind-boggling puzzle that eventually let his exhausted body fall asleep. 

In the morning, he made his way back to the restaurant, trying to let his thoughts empty with each push of his bike pedals up another hill. Once he was behind the bar, four shots of espresso brewing, he looked out over the seating, and through the windows, the soft morning light still filtering through. This restaurant had a magic about it that not all of them did, but his favorite time was always in the morning when nothing had gone wrong yet, and there was still time to dream. As Remus poured his espresso over his quart container of ice, and topped it off with sparkling water, he thought about how he would run this restaurant if he was the chef. What would he create? How would he set himself apart in a way that would make customers want to keep coming back? Remus had become so focused on being a good cook, he forgot what it felt like to think like a chef. With Sirius’s words finally sinking in, he pushed down his fears and headed to the kitchen with renewed purpose. 

Things did not improve immediately, but slowly Remus began to gain confidence that even when Sirius’s responses to his food were lackluster, he was not in danger of being ejected from the kitchen. He used the recipes as guides and started taking more liberties with the flavors, playing with what the dish could be, instead of whatever Sirius had dreamed up that week. He took notes of what worked, and what didn’t, practiced something at home, and then came back the next day exhausted but more ready than he had been the previous day. Consistency was less important than quality at a restaurant where the menu was always changing and the average meal cost more than his entire month’s rent. And so as Sirius changed the menu, Remus changed with each iteration. 

Then, a few months later, the unthinkable happened. 

“Remus,” Sirius was looking down, wiping an invisible smudge from a plate about to go out. “Stop by my office after service.” 

“Yes, chef.”

Remus swallowed. He thought he had done fairly well that day, even receiving an almost smile from Sirius at the seasoning he’d made for their puffed rice, but apparently it wasn’t enough. His head started to spin with all the things that could happen, but he still couldn’t throw off the deep sense of dread that filled his gut. 

An hour later Remus emptied his drawer of tools and packed up his bag. At least this way he wouldn’t have to go back into the kitchen after getting sacked. He took a breath and rounded the corner to Sirius’s office. It was more like a closet that had a computer shoved into it, and Remus felt as if the walls were even closer than before. Sirius was squinting at the computer, with his glasses on his head, and Remus would’ve found the sight a bit cute if he wasn’t exhausted and facing his doom. 

“Just a moment Remus,” Sirius said, never taking his eyes off whatever the computer held. 

“Your um, glasses,” Sirius looked up then with a questioning face, and Remus tapped the top of his own head. Sirius reached up and felt around, grasping the glasses and letting out a weak laugh. 

“Wow,” he rubbed his eyes before putting them on, “guess you could say I’m a bit tired, huh?” Sirius smiled at Remus with the dark-rimmed glasses framing his face beautifully. You’d think with looks like that he’d be able to model, but somehow he had ended up in a kitchen, still blowing everyone else out of the water. Some people really did get all the luck in the world. Remus simply nodded in response, tired and hoping to get this over with quickly. 

“Well, I guess I’ll cut to the chase, cuz I really do hate all the pretentious bull shit.” Remus gripped his bag harder, locking his jaw to keep himself as emotionless looking as possible. “But I’d like to promote you to sous chef.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

Sirius gave a breathy laugh through his nose and then ran a tongue over his teeth. “Did I catch you by surprise?” His eyes were sparkling with…something, and it was all Remus could focus on while his brain put itself back together. 

“I…you want...me?” He stammered, trying to find the trick in Sirius’s words. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he sat back and examined Remus from his relaxed position, “I mean, you know this means more early mornings foraging for food, more evenings planning dishes with me, and you’ll have to help oversee the rest of the dishes. So you tell me, is that something you want to do?” 

“Throw in a pay raise?” Remus countered, a smile finally growing to match Sirius’s own, who laughed at his rebuttal. 

“Yes, a pay raise is definitely in order, along with a new jacket. We got a deal?” 

Remus took his outstretched hand, rough from years in kitchens, but large and warm in a way that was comforting. “Ok, deal.” 

Sirius nodded, happy with the matter settled, and slapped his thighs. “Ok, we need to celebrate.”

Remus, who was still floating around in the clouds with the change in events and job, snapped his eyes up to Sirius’s. “Celebrate?” 

The grin that took over Sirius’s face should have been illegal with how lecherous it was. Chefs, it should be known, are very good at cooking, but almost all of them are even better at drinking. This, Remus realized, was now part of his job: keeping the chef happy no matter how insane his ideas.

“Yeah! I know this guy who runs a bar with the best satay. You mind riding with me?” Sirius flung off his chef’s jacket while gathering up his keys and donning his signature leather jacket.

“Sure,” Remus almost laughed, “you buying?”

Sirius laughed sharp and loud, as he went to take Remus’s bag and throw it onto his chair. “Sure, Remus, it’s your big night. I’m buying, we’re drinking, and then who knows what mischief we’ll get up to.” He winked at him and Remus felt phantom anticipation of magic build up in his chest. He shook his head and followed Sirius out through the back of the restaurant and into the night. 

___

The ride to the bar had been…well…Remus still wasn’t sure how he survived the awkward setup of the motorcycle, but Sirius seemed to enjoy himself, and although it was his first time, Remus found himself relaxing into the ride, hands wrapped around Sirius’s soft leather jacket as they made their way through downtown and into the outskirts of the city. 

When they arrived, Sirius offered his hand to Remus as he dismounted, and then hung the helmets on the handlebars, before leading the way through the nondescript door. It must’ve been a speakeasy or some ultra hip underground place since there was no sign. Remus crossed his fingers inside his denim jacket’s pockets and hoped this wasn’t how he died. 

As they entered, it was clear that Remus was about to experience Happy Sirius. Sirius immediately greeted the doorman, and gave him a bear hug before laughing at some comment the man-made and barreling through to the bar. It looked like a well practiced dance and Remus followed in his wake, taking in the dimly lit room filled with people, and furniture that was all clearly from the side of the road, or a resale center at best. There was loud music, small tables, and a bar along the entire sidewall. Sirius grabbed Remus’s wrist, and he could feel the chef’s cuts and calluses on his hand, scraping against his burn he’d gotten making roux the week before. Sirius pulled him through the throng of people until they reached the far end of the bar, where he leaned over and started to wave maniacally at someone. A short woman with fiery red hair made her way over and beamed at Sirius before swatting him upside the head.

“Where have you been, Padfoot?” she shouted, smile bright and hands already grabbing shot glasses to fill. 

“Hey! I’ve been working very hard!” She simply rolled her eyes at him, and Remus felt relaxed meeting someone who didn’t give a shit about Sirius’s clout and notoriety until she switched her appraising gaze onto Remus. 

“You going to be rude or are you going to introduce me?” She shouted at Sirius, setting three shots down on the bar. Sirius rolled his eyes before patting Remus on the back, “This, is Remus Lupin, my new sous chef.”

“Nice to meet you…” 

“Lily,” she offered, along with a firm handshake. Lily’s eyes darted between Sirius and Remus, a mysterious smile growing. In confusion, Remus looked to Sirius who seemed to be cowering with…was that blush on his cheeks?

“Ok, well I’m guessing you're here cuz you’re hungry, so drink up and I’ll start sending some food out.” She raised her glass and the three of them clinked their shots together before throwing them back. She pulled a pint for each of them and disappeared behind the door to the kitchen. 

“What was that about?” Remus asked. 

“Lily? Oh, she’s just a very old friend who misses me,” Sirius winked and hurried to move the conversation onto food, asking Remus about what he grew up eating. Remus quickly found himself falling into easy, albeit loud, conversation with Sirius about a shared fondness for peanut butter, and an addiction to coffee. They tucked into their dishes that had Remus raving and Sirius begging Lily for more, while they kept up the constant conversation. 

“There’s no way you drink espresso and soda! I thought that was Coke!” 

“Nope!” Remus popped the P, and took a sip of his third beer. He was feeling incredible. Confidence, good food, and the absolute attention of Sirius Black all proved to be a heady drug that had him feeling free and bold. 

“You know, this is nice? I thought you were going to fire me and here I am eating with you and having the best time.” 

Remus was expecting a laugh, but looked up when there was none. Sirius was staring at him with a puzzled look on his face. “Why would you think you were getting fired? You’re good, and you’re not afraid of me which is…” Sirius seemed to struggle with his words, hand playing with his half-empty pint, “...well, it’s nice to work with someone who isn’t afraid of some honest feedback.” 

Remus thought on that, about how lonely it must be at the top. Sirius might’ve been famous in the restaurant world, but he wasn’t evil and he wasn’t rich yet, still working for the actual owners of the restaurant. He worked hard, always stayed late, and still managed to produce amazing food while handling all of the press poking at him. The man seemed to have two sides. One was pure chef: project mode, ultimate focus on the task at hand, and unable to receive input from anyone. This mode had high expectations and only accepted perfection. Then, there was another side. The side that was playful and teasing, fun and inviting, mischief seeking and completely, utterly charming. The thing was Remus realized, was that he liked both sides of Sirius, and wasn’t that just the cherry on top of the fucking cake?

Remus smirked, “Well, you’re a bit too pretty to be scary.” 

Sirius’s face took on that devilish smile that always made Remus curious. “You think I’m pretty, huh?”

Now it was Remus’s turn to laugh. “Actually, I think I’m drunk, but I’ll let you pretend that’s a compliment.” 

Sirius’s smile grew even more, and he shook his head before throwing back the rest of his pint. 

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and heated debate about the best way to make macaroni and cheese until exhaustion finally overtook both of them and they headed out into the night. Sirius left his bike in favor of a shared Lyft. They sat in companionable silence on the way to Remus’s apartment, the comfort of being equals growing a warm place in Remus’s psyche. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew Sirius was poking his cheek to wake him up. 

“Hey sleepy chef, time for bed.” 

Remus blinked away the sleep while swatting a giggling Sirius’s hand away. 

“See you tomorrow, chef.” 

Now that woke Remus up a bit more and he smiled at Sirius. “I think I forgot to say thank you?”

The man shrugged and his boot nudged Remus’s shin. “No thanks needed, you earned it. Now go get sleep so I can put you through hell tomorrow.”

Remus left the car laughing, knowing that it was no joke. He looked at his phone which told him he’d be able to get exactly 4 hours of sleep if he crashed right now. Fuck. 

___

The next few months were filled with a crash course in really running a restaurant. He became Sirius’s shadow, taking over ordering, meeting with the owners, getting his headshot done for the website, and on top of everything else preparing for the annual Food & Wine Festival in town that year. Remus hardly had time to sleep, let alone feed and properly wash, but at the same time, he felt like he had finally broken through the barrier and was on his way to his dream of running his own place one day. 

The problem with this dream was that every time he thought about it, he still imagined himself working with Sirius. He imagined the two of them designing plates, bickering over the best way to make a dish, getting inspiration for a dish from whatever movie they watched together…

Yeah. He was in hot water for sure. Somehow, while he wasn’t looking, his respect for Sirius as a professional, had expanded to respect for him as a person, and the more time they spent together, the more Remus felt himself getting addicted to that high of seeing Sirius smile. It lit up his whole face and Remus was desperate to touch those soft lips, feel the rough stubble around the edges, and the warmth he knew that would come with everything that was Sirius. Remus wasn’t sure what to do with his feelings, unsure if they were returned or not. 

They had developed a bit of a pattern. After a week of working nonstop, they’d leave the crew to clean up the kitchen while they placed orders for the following week, and then take the bike out to discover a new haunt. Going out with Sirius was surreal. The man seemed to know everyone at each new place they visited, and yet each time they went out, Sirius made his greetings quick and then spent the entire night talking to Remus, breaking down their week, making fun of the general manager and her daughter doing their “social media”. Remus would let himself imagine reaching across the table to touch Sirius’s hands, and rub out their soreness, he’d ache to push his haphazard hair behind the man’s ear, and when he had one too many drinks, and he was finally home, he’d let his imagination take over with all the ways they could touch until he fell into his dreams. 

They reminisced over first jobs, worst jobs, and then (possibly his favorite part) they started to talk about an ideal kitchen. A kitchen that was made for a chef, not for owners.

“You know when I stagéd a Chez Panisse, it felt like they got it right.” Remus reminisced about the week he had spent in San Francisco, working a new restaurant each night, searching for a place that would pay enough for him to afford a room in a shitty apartment. He had failed, since all of the restaurants were staffed with trust fund kids who lived at home or immigrant staff, both of whom he respected but it meant a kitchen charging $200 a head would get away with criminally low pay for its “employees”. 

“You worked with Alice?” Sirius questioned before biting off another satay bite. 

“No, her staff though. The food was truly mediocre, but they had the back of house right. Lockers for everyone, three shifts a day, staff meal in the MIDDLE OF SERVICE,” Remus threw his hands up with the thought, “because it was always a prix fixe menu, with staggered seatings. While the front of house changed over, got bills paid, and poured wine, we were able to take a break and sit down to eat. It was...magical.” He leaned back in his seat, and looked down from his musings to notice it was Sirius who was now in dreamland. He waved a hand in front of his face which made the man laugh and kick him under the table. 

“Fuck off, you just got me thinking,” Sirius grinned. 

“Yeah?” 

“I just…” Sirius’s face twisted like he was pained, and Remus stayed quiet. The chef had never had a problem being forthright with his words before, but seeing him struggle told Remus how special this information would be, maybe even how special he was to be hearing it.

Sirius took a deep sigh before continuing, “I just, I’m tired of it?” Remus nodded like he understood, even though he was still a bit lost on where Sirius was going.

“I’m tired of doing this for hundreds of people a week, I’m tired of doing it for the owners, I’m tired of trying to win awards being…innovative instead of just…just…”

“Cooking?” Remus questioned, trying to find his way into Sirius’s thoughts.

“…creating.” Sirius finished and finally looked up from the silverware he’d been fiddling with, and Remus understood. If running a restaurant was a circus act, Sirius was tired of being the star in someone else's show. 

“I think I get that.”

“Yeah?” Sirius’s eyes lit up with a vulnerable hope that Remus has never seen before, and he marveled at how young it made the man look. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve taught me how important it is to taste rather than think, but of course, it’s your reputation on the line. You don’t get to just taste anymore when you’re always having to think about if it’s too much like whatever some other chef did last year, or too traditional, even when traditional is oftentimes really, really good.”

Sirius smacked his hand on the table, “Yes! Exactly! I just, I want to wake up and cook whatever I feel like that day, I want to go to the markets and think about dinner and not what’s in stock enough to serve 200 covers, I want to DO the cooking and lean back into the zen of cutting carrots.”

Remus laughed at that and Sirius smirked along at himself.

“The zen of cutting carrots?” 

Sirius shrugged without remorse, “Cutting those little perfect cubes makes me happy.” He smiled a shy little smile and that was it. Remus felt himself tilt from liking Sirius to having a full-blown infatuation with the man. 

Here was this megastar of the food world, sitting across from him for the...well he couldn’t even count how many nights they’d been going out together now, but he was talking about the joy of cutting carrots. Not the glamor of travel, the prestige of awards, or the obsession with finding the most authentic version of a recipe. He was full of confidence, and yet unlike other chefs, or even other men he had dated, none of his confidence stemmed from arrogance, and all of it was endearing. Remus wanted so very badly to reach across the table and kiss that small smile until it grew big and bright but restrained himself. He still had to work with Sirius, and going out with your sous chef to talk about the industry wasn’t the clearest indication of…anything. So, tamping down the urge trying to escape his beer addled mind, he returned to the subject.

“What does that look like for you? Are you saying you want to leave the industry?”

A huff he could barely hear escaped Sirius, “No, no I’m too obsessed with it to escape, but I do want something different, something manageable and small.”

“Sounds good to me,” Remus offered, taking another sip before he confessed more.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I…,” Remus looked down at his empty plate to make the next words easier to say, “I’d like to go with you.”

“You would?” Sirius tilted his head and his eyebrows scrunched up in a confused puppy look that really wasn’t helping Remus with controlling himself. “I mean, you’re the sous chef now, so you would be promoted to head chef when I leave, and the world would be your oyster so to speak.”

“But what would be the point without you?” Remus took a quick intake of breath with his accidental honesty, and he and Sirius locked eyes. There was still room to back out, there was still time for him to clarify, to dismiss, to reassure Sirius that he meant without Sirius’s guidance, leadership, skills, talent, something, fucking anything. But while his brain raced, his body was frozen, caught in the gaze of those silver eyes, seeking, digging, pulling the truth from him. 

He braced for the letdown, knowing that if Sirius really was going to start his own place, he would get to avoid further embarrassment as soon as he left to start his own kitchen. Sirius broke eye contact, quickly got out his wallet, threw a few bills on the table, and stood up in a flash. 

“Come on.” Sirius held out his hand, and Remus eyed it, his nerves rolling in his stomach, making him regret the beers, this evening, his stupid, stupid crush, but then...then Sirius sighed and gave him a small smile, and it was enough to get his body working again. He relished the feeling of those rough fingers on his hand this time, not his wrist, and the ache in his stomach morphed into lightness. 

They made their way through the bar, weaving through the crowd until they hit the fresh air of the alleyway. Sirius didn't stop, but kept going until they were near the end of the cobblestone street, a quiet neighborhood just beyond. 

Spinning around, Sirius stared right into Remus's eyes, and gripped his hand a bit tighter. Remus felt the chilly air cool the sweat on his skin, his arms breaking out in goosebumps. They breathed in sync for a moment, both heavy with exhaustion, drunkenness, or something else, something like...want. 

He watched Sirius move slowly towards him, his tall, wide frame casting a shadow onto Remus who could do nothing but look up into quicksilver eyes. 

"You know, I almost didn't hire you," Sirius words came out as a husky whisper that made Remus's knees weak, though he should've laughed at the incredulity of the statement, "you were so beautiful, I wasn't sure I could focus with you around."

Remus swallowed as the months came flooding back to him. Sirius always asking him to go on special foraging adventures, Sirius giving him feedback while he fired others, Sirius taking him out night after night, and most precious of all, daring to dream with him. 

Remus's grip tightened in Sirius's hand, and then there were lips on his. Lips that were so soft, so sweet, they felt like soft serve on a warm summer's day. He gasped, as Sirius's free hand came up to grab him firmly around the waist, almost burning him through the soft threadbare t-shirt, and Remus felt electrified with the action. While one hand gripped Sirius's like an anchor keeping him in place, the other moved up to his face and finally felt along the sandpaper stubble. They kissed and Remus felt lighter as Sirius's tongue, wet and warm slid into his mouth, they kissed as Remus bit down on his lower lip tasting his sweet moan, they kissed and Remus felt himself being walked back, and pushed against the cool brick wall, hands moving down his sides to caress his hips, his butt, and thighs before lifting him and changing the angle of their kiss. Remus wrapped his legs around Sirius as he relished in the heat of this gorgeous man’s touch, the beautiful scorching warmth of this solid body pressing against him. Sirius finally broke the kiss to kiss down Remus's neck, those soft lips turning firm and insistent, a perfectly placed bite that had him breathless. 

"Fuck...Sirius...please." Remus wasn't sure what he wanted to say but he needed more. More of this man, more skin to touch, and then as if his mind was being read, he felt those strong fingertips slip under his shirt and caress him so softly, those cuts and calluses scratching his sensitive skin so beautifully he couldn't hold back his shiver.

“Remus,” Sirius whispered his name into this neck, kissing his way back up until Remus felt hot air, and then the pull of sharp teeth on his ear. “You don’t have to say yes, but I…” Another soft kiss on his cheek, and Remus felt a rough thumb dip below his waistband right at his hip, and he wondered if he had ever been this turned on, this adored. 

“Yes, please yes, please, I’ve been wanting you for weeks, maybe months, and I—” he was silenced by a rough kiss, those once soft lips had turned firm and demanding, hot and stealing all of Remus's breath, before retreating. 

Sirius pulled back, and Remus could only stare at those red lips and his soft eyes. 

"Hold that thought," Sirius commanded, with a voice that went straight to Remus's cock. He couldn't help the whine that escaped him, and Sirius smirked, pecked him on the lips, and pulled back again. With one hand holding Remus's thigh against him, the other reached into his pants and pulled out his phone to schedule their Lyft.

"One stop, or two?" Sirius asked, a cocky smirk playing at his still shining lips. 

"One."

____

It was six months later and Remus was pressed up against a different wall, this time inside _their_ kitchen. The kitchen he and Sirius had dreamed of opening up together. It was a tiny place near the waterfront, consisting of one long bar in front of an open kitchen, and a flat above it meaning they could escape upstairs whenever they needed to. They had pried Lily away from her bartending gig to effectively run the entire front of house, pour drinks, and handle guests, while Remus and Sirius worked in the back making nothing but a single chef's tasting menu each night. Sirius had convinced his best friend James's parents to invest in the place, and they agreed to fund it as long as James agreed to play the part of promoter and handle their finances. 

Tonight was opening night, and they still had work to do, but Remus couldn't find it in himself to complain. The Sirius he got to be with now was always Happy Sirius, always excited, always creating, and best yet, always putting his hands all over Remus. They had finally found a place they could make their own, and Remus couldn't be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to everyone who ran the games, and who helped me actually finish this fic! 
> 
> Hope you all liked this peek into the life of a cook. 🥰 
> 
> And yes, Sirius was trying to be very slick by constantly taking Remus out on dates without ever calling them that. He was crushing BIG TIME. 
> 
> Oh, and Jily totally happened after they started running the restaurant together. 
> 
> Let me know what you think they should call their restaurant!


End file.
